


There Should Have Been Trumpets

by Barb Cummings (Rahirah)



Series: The Barbverse [28]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahirah/pseuds/Barb%20Cummings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two ex-crazy people and a short stack of buttermilk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Should Have Been Trumpets

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the same universe as _A Raising in the Sun_, _Necessary Evils_, et. al. (See the [Barbverse Timeline](http://sleepingjaguars.com/buffy/viewpage.php?page=timeline) for specifics.) It contains spoilers for previous works in the series. This is the very last of my Katrina charity ficlets. The third request was for something with Fred and my OC Daniel Tanner. I immediately got an image of the two of them eating pancakes, and then... nothing. Nada. Zilch. They've been sitting there taunting me for years now. So finally I just wrote down the nothing, and well, here it is. (crawls away in shame)

Daniel Tanner likes Fred Burkle. No, not _that_ way. She's young enough to be his daughter. Most likely that's what people think when they see the two of them together, the lean, greying man and the thin, dark-haired girl. But it's not like that, either; Fred's got a perfectly good daddy, back in Texas, and he's got a pair of perfectly good kids in Pomona - granted he mislaid them for awhile. Fred's smart, and Fred's tough, and in situations where most people let their eyes slide away, Fred stares the universe down. Tanner admires that. He and Fred have things in common. They both like pancakes. And she was crazy for a while, too.

So once a week they meet at the IHOP on the corner of Wilshire and Hauser. Tanner feels kindly towards coffee shops, especially the twenty-four-hour kind where, as long as it's not too busy, the waitresses overlook the fact that you've been nursing a cup of coffee for four hours straight. He likes the warmth of them, the smell, the way the vinyl squeaks when they sit down. The reassuring weight of the white stoneware plates, anchoring you firmly to the world. Diners make order out of chaos, twenty-four seven. There was a time when he desperately needed that. Now that he can, he always leaves a big tip, in memory of all the times he couldn't.

"...Angel keeps sayin' he's fine, but let's face it, it's not like there's a lot of precedent." Fred spears the last of her pancake and chews unhappily. She draws syrupy crop circles across her plate with her fork. "So they're runnin' tests. I've been lookin' over their shoulders - to keep 'em honest, you know? I'm just not sure I'd spot a fib if they told it. Demon biology isn't exactly my field."

"It's not exactly demon biology any longer, is it?" Tanner cradles his cup of coffee in both hands, warming his fingers. He doesn't need to do that anymore. He's got a coat, and shoes without holes, and it doesn't get that cold in L.A. anyhow. But it's gotten to be a habit. "How's Angel taking it?" He doesn't know Angel very well. Or at all, really. Just what he's heard from Anne and Connor, trickle-down. He's not sure how Angel should be taking it.

Fred sighs, tapping her fork against the rim of her plate and eyeing his sausage. Wordlessly, he pushes his plate towards her. She nabs a sausage, dredging it through the puddle of syrup. "Like it's all his bad karma chickens come home to roost. Which is pretty darned annoying, when it's everything he claims he wanted." She pops the sausage into her mouth, chews, swallows. "Maybe he just can't bear the idea it's a reward. Considering."

He gets that. His own salvation came dearer than he can bear to think about, most days. And when you figure in the collateral damage from Angel's... Fred props her chin up on one fist and blows the hair out of her eyes. "I always thought it'd be...shinier, somehow. Prophecy coming true, I mean. Seems like there should have been trumpets."

Maybe that's Angel's problem. How do you tell the difference between prophecy and dumb luck, without the trumpets? But Angel's woes are writ larger than life, and his own are merely footnotes. Something he's glad of, most days. "You planning on staying on with Angel Investigations?"

"Maybe." Fred shakes her head. "I don't even know for sure if Angel's gonna want to keep the place open. Tell you the truth, I'm kinda burnt out on vampires. I could use a change of scenery. I thought about maybe goin' back to Texas for a while, visit my folks..."

But that would be running away. She doesn't say it, but they both know that once you've crossed a certain threshold, you can't go back, whether you stepped over it with open eyes, or were shoved by a jealous professor, or dragged willy-nilly by a narcissistic hellgod. "You'll do fine."

She nods, smiles. "Yeah. I will."

When they leave, Tanner makes sure the plates are neatly stacked. Order out of chaos. He tosses an extra five on the table for good measure. It's the least he can do. Considering.

END


End file.
